


Reason

by GoddessofBirth



Category: Firefly
Genre: Canon Appropriate Violence, Episode Related, F/M, pre-Rayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessofBirth/pseuds/GoddessofBirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She floats in pain, day in and day out.  She can't not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reason

**Author's Note:**

> Um...if you've followed me over from LJ or FF.net, then you'll know this isn't new. I'm just v.e.r.y. slowly transferring stories over.

She floats in pain; day in and day out. She can't not. Even when it isn't her own, there's always _someone_ hurting on that ship; if it's not physical, it's mental. If it's not mental, it's spiritual. It's amazing how much is that latter, on a vessel ostensibly filled with the unbelieving and the unrepentant.

_The liars._

So much pain, and she can't help but feel it all. It makes her angry. It makes her lash out. Sometimes, it even makes her completely insane; like the time Jayne was calmly sitting at the table, but inside was a boiling mess of grief and horror. His brother had died – all the credits Jayne had skimped to send couldn't save him, and instead of weeping or talking, or any one hundred and one things sane people did, he'd pretended he hadn't even gotten the news, and instead blistered inside.

And she hurt _so_ much, unable to keep him out, that she'd done the only thing to salvage her already fractured brain. Grabbed a knife and sliced him open, let all those emotions come bleeding out, figuratively and literally, because Buddha knew at least physical pain could be healed.

Just like that, for just that second, every thing inside him winks into oblivion, killed by sheer rage and anger and agony, and it's angels singing. And then, _then_ he goes and does one better, hits her hard enough to split her lip and send her flying across the room.

And she's bleeding and aching, and she realizes that she can't feel him, can't feel the crew, can only feel her own fear and her own pain and her own throbbing wounds.

He's blessed her, a holy benediction.

She looks at him in wonder; all anger and blood and swirling betrayal, but she only knows this with her eyes, because her insides are finally, for this moment, just hers.

She could love this man.

Perhaps she should cut him more often.


End file.
